Unwritten
by La Editor
Summary: A nineteen-turned-twelve Sakura will vouch that time travel is no walk in the park. ItaSaku.
1. Prologue

A/N: (So here we are again, what feels like years from the start of this charade. This story has been a struggle for me from the beginning, and each time I try to fix it I can only patch it up so much. I want something _clean_, something that I will like and will ultimately, in the end, be a _good fanfiction. _I haven't felt that from Unwritten, and this is one issue that it doesn't matter if people like it - _I _have to like it. Otherwise it would be pointless. Mainly, I had a hard time embracing the faults and flaws of our heroine along with her better qualities. I think my main obstacle was getting over that. Keeping her Sakura. That was for the old-timers.)

For newcomers: welcome to Unwritten. This is a story about laughter and sadness, and being sorry and second chances, and how sometimes if you _could _do it over it wouldn't turn out how you expected, anyway, and also about how clay birds make great pets. Moving forward, one step at a time.

* * *

**Unwritten**

* * *

Prologue

_Get away get away get away run run run run run run-_

The air was fresh.

_Get away get away get away get away get away-_

Rainwater fresh.

_Keep running keep running keep running keep-_

The kind that was almost painful to inhale deeply, the kind that was a little like cold water and the scent of damp earth, muddy earth and dull brown and yellow leaves. She used to like it, by the way. Never could quite make up her mind if she liked rain or sunshine more; she could answer instantly if asked, of course, because she was like that.

_Run run run run and oh, my gods-_

And she could be asked the same question a day later and the answer wouldn't be the same.

_My gods, my gods, are you even there-?_

Still, not the point.

_That doesn't matter just keep running, get a plan and just keep running-_

The point? That a certain name in the bingo book was running away. In fact, Sakura imagined that her biography would look a little like this, if she had the time to think about it:

Sakura Haruno

Age: 19

Sign: Aries

Rank: A-Class Criminal

Status: still breathing

Diagnosis: completely, _completely _fucked.

Cursing wasn't really her style, but once again, that didn't matter, that didn't matter at all. What _did _matter was that - that -

_Oh, sweet sweet mother they're dead, they're dead-_

_No, _not what mattered, time for crying - time for crying - crying - _later_, not now, but quiet tears were leaking down her face anyway as Sakura sped across the forest floor littered with dead leaves, quiet as she could be even as her left arm flapped against her ribcage like a pounding mallet, heavy and hard and cold and _useless_, twisted up like a gnarled root. She didn't have the chakra to fix it. Completely heavy and hard and cold and useless, like somebody had torn it off and sewn it back on all wrong like a puppet.

_And oh, _gods_, what went wrong?_

Still.

_Still._

If someone asked her... if she were to think it over right now, think over it hard and long, would she have done anything differently?

(Would you have done anything differently, Sakura?)

She felt like a little girl. She felt like a little child on a sailboat on the lake, waiting patiently for the wind to blow her back home.

Would she have done anything - _anything _- differently?

Sometimes, water is thicker than blood. Sakura found this concept utterly heartbreaking and warm.

Running blind, her legs stumbled and her eyes streamed - strong women don't cry, and if they ever do, the strongest of the strong only let one single perfect tear down, she thought. But the ugly ducklings who hide their feathers with baubles and useless trinkets (the girls who hide themselves with heavy armor and fake confidence)? The women who can still be reduced to little girls on the sailboat of the world? They cry in hiccuping gasps, because they are little girls again.

And Sakura tried not to tremble.

"_Sakura-"_

The voice, calling and calling, in absolute rage and anger and hatred and everything, _everything _building up and spilling out his throat and ears and nose and eyes like waves, was so, so harsh. And that voice, that _voice, _so familiar to her - but it wasn't, that was the problem, and it tore Sakura's insides out and smashed them apart, it really did, but she couldn't think about it because she had a problem on her trail, and theirs ended so soon, too soon - but not now. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart.

And here at the end, Sakura understood that this was her worst. Physical training can only go so far, and she was too volatile to ever train the inside of herself, and it never worked right, and it's a little like torture and a little like pain, she guessed hazily in the back of her head. A strain on her shoulder reminded her of the solitary clay bird who hooted softly, a symbol of change shooting through her world.

The forest was thinning out, the blurs of branches and thin dull brown trunks getting thinner and thinner as the leaves crunched underfoot, and soon she could see why as the river came into view. The fresh water ran quickly and widely, and without choice Sakura sprinted to gain enough momentum to jump straight across. Landing on her belly painfully, her limbs screamed out angrily as she staggered up to keep going - and then she saw the glint of silver. A giant hope rose through her chest to her throat that maybe, just maybe, it was a Konoha headband, just _maybe_-

But no. No headband.

As her left arm pounded painfully against her bruised and broken ribs, Sakura ran towards it anyway as the edge of the cliff in the Valley of the End approached fast and she slowed down to a trot. She should probably keep running, because she has a minute head-start at most, but she knew she wouldn't keep it up much longer, anyway, and the world dotted and danced through her vision in neon. Chakra seeped from her legs; she was sure if she kept surging the energy through she would burn them off, and she vaguely wondered how that would feel, because Sakura was fairly sure that it wouldn't.

It wasn't a headband, but it wasn't a trick of her vision, either. Sakura stumbled towards the strange phenomenon. It was a rip in the air, and she lifted her good hand towards it to fall through.

And suddenly, she wasn't there anymore.

(_Would you have done anything differently_?)


	2. Love Lies Bleeding

A/N: I hope you're liking the rewrite. :)

flowerpossibilities dot com slash encyclopedia dot html

800florals dot com slash are slash meaning dot asp

aboutflowers dot com slash floral underscore b5 dot html

These are actually for my own personal reference, because I'm currently working from a computer that isn't my own and thus can't save the links. (Too lazy to write them.) I suppose you can look them up if you really want to... nothing too interesting if you aren't doing it for what you're writing. It's sad, really. I _told _myself I wasn't going to take this so seriously. And now I'm checking and double-checking a bunch of different sites to find flower meanings and the common meanings between different sources... Geez...

Anyway. This is the first chapter of Unwritten, and it will deviate somewhat from the original. It's a _lot _better, though, as well as much more interesting. Symbolism is fun. I'm also moving some things back a bit, that way I don't have to cover so much in the second part of the chapter. (It was becoming increasingly hard to write pointless fluff for the first parts.)

I really, really like this all better than the original. S. Originals. I wrote many before posting, did you know that? Two versions before the one I just deleted, which makes... up to four versions of this story. Yeesh.

Anyway, each chapter is split into two parts, what could be seen as a 'then' to 'now' sort of set-up. Basically, the first part of each chapter is Sakura's own history, _leading up to _the prologue. And, of course, that means that the second part is what happens _after _the prologue. Both parts are equally important.

* * *

Love Lies Bleeding

-

She had been elated when she had passed the Jounin exams - a year earlier than the norm.

If anything, Sakura was far from prideful, and played the part of being humble on the stage of ninja ranking well - but a little voice in her mind had whooped jubilantly anyway, because she was in the same league as Neji and Lee and Shikamaru and Naruto. It made her feel _better_, because being a burden was always such a fear, such a haunting memory that was a little like salty tears and a little like quiet little girl whimpers, a little like pain and a little like watching somebody die.

And at sixteen years old, Sakura was feeling pretty damn good.

Because not only had she been promoted to Jounin exactly one week and a half ago - she was coming home (limping, battered and bloody _but still standing, _and that was what counted) all alone, and not because she failed anybody, because she had started off alone for this mission and was _coming back_. Successful, all by herself, and even if she had some blood splotches painting her - some hers and some not - she couldn't stop smiling.

Even if there were things that she was currently blocking out (pretend you don't see it, pretend it's not there), she still succeeded.

She still did it.

She made it where she hadn't thought she would. And that was something. Failure came so _easily, _all the time, that actually pulling something off was just... pride. Pride, swelling up in her chest like a big red balloon of happiness.

She had thought of it before, of course - a solo mission. But memories and underachievements and doubts and worries and fears piled up each time like a game of tetris, and each time that she thought of it and was almost, _almost _about to ask for one, she suddenly shrank and the vague sense of self-esteem withered away to nothing, shriveled up like the heart of a bitter old man. It was too hard.

But when she was _needed_ to pull off that solo mission - when Tsunade-shishou asked her, and her specifically - it was a little like the terrifying feeling before jumping off of a cliff. And you could fall or fly, hit the water below head first or feet first and make the best of it or hide from it. And she did it. She jumped and righted herself so that her feet would hit the water, and she survived.

Sakura smiled, and tried not to look at the slash - long, but shallow, which was good - adorning her stomach like a gaudy tattoo.

As soon as she dragged herself into the Hokage's tower to write up and hand in her mission report, a sort of surprised hiss went off and a voice gasped quietly - Tsunade, motherly Tsunade in all of her proud and faked youth glory, descended the stairs she had previously been meandering down with a sudden sense of purpose towards her student as Shizune followed, worry etched into both faces.

"Sakura, what the hell did you do to yourself?" Shishou murmured, eyes averting from all the red that still scared her, and dragged her into the emergency-med room (_"for stubborn ninja who need medical attention but insist on handing in reports first even if they're about to collapse," Tsunade had once told her crossly as she patched a mildly embarrassed Kakashi up, months and months ago_) to fix her up, good as new again.

"Most of it isn't mine," Sakura told her with sleep in her mind, and her teacher's hazel eyes focusing on her broken wrist - they snapped up to her and there was something there, something there and she wished that she hadn't said anything, because Tsunade looked suddenly very tired and a lot older and her eyes were a little glassy, and maybe it was because she was so very, very tired. Maybe it was because when she saw blood on a sixteen-year-old-child (because sixteen was a mere child to this seemingly ageless woman, Sakura knew) and that's all that was offered, something inside of her died a little.

Sakura knew this from experience, too.

She tried not to dwell on it and offered her teacher a smile while Shizune bandaged her leg and helped Sakura clean off the blood that shishou would not touch. As they finished Tsunade finally stood and offered a watery smile back with the whites of her eyes tinged a little pink around the edges, bags from sleepless nights doing surgeries and working hard to be the hero everyone expected her to be a little darker than usual.

Shizune stood as well, smiling at Sakura - like a sister in a family tied by something that wasn't blood - and patted her knee gently, before exiting to continue what she was doing, parting with a sincere and much-appreciated, "Good job, Sakura-chan."

Tsunade breathed again when the door closed, deeply like if she didn't fill up to the brim with oxygen something terrible would happen; then it all left in one long _swoosh_ like she was expelling wind.

"You did it."

Sakura blinked up at her shishou, who just smiled a very small one.

"You passed that milestone. Alone, being able to do it by yourself."

Sakura allowed a mild grin to form on her face.

Tsunade watched her a little nostalgically, a little unhappily and with a little pride in her eyes. And then after a few moments, she stepped towards her pretend-daughter.

"Sleep now," Tsunade whispered and passed a pleasantly cool hand across her student's eyes, and Sakura knew no more.

-

She woke several hours later - despite knowing that a full seven to eight hours of sleep were best for you, Sakura rarely got the amount she needed, as with most ninja; six hours was all she needed to wake up, not fully rested, but relatively happy.

She was in the hospital, and judging from the window, second floor. This was good. The bad cases - concussions, broken bones, internal bleeding, severed limbs or severe chakra depletion, the list goes on - all went to the first. The second was for mild injuries, so she went ahead and slipped out of the covers, bare feet meeting the cold white tile that sent a chill up to her knees before dying as she shuffled towards the door to slip her sandals on, with every intention of going home to take a shower and clean her clothes (blood made _the worst_ stains, several once quite-nice fighting garments littering her trashbag could vouch).

Before leaving the room completely, Sakura turned to face the window; the sky outside was gray, soon to darken as the late afternoon sunlight would close, and the ground was wet.

She quietly exited the hospital, and when she found no one outside on such a quiet, gray day she pulled her sandals off and left footprints in the green grass as she made her way home.

It was later, much later, when she was lying in bed with the window thrown wide open to let the full, pale moon dance ghosts around the room, that she absently fingered the scrap of cloth that had been stuck in her boot, drenched with dry blood, and wondered with a half-awake mind what the young man's name was (_did he have a lover or children was he married was he a good person was the kind brightness in his eyes just a lie or real did he deserve-_).

A sneaking guilt crept up on her, but she slept anyway and tried to forget.

Maybe it was a bit of a weakness, too.

But it was one thing that she wouldn't stomp out, because she could have guilts piling up on her soul like a community grave for nameless bodies as long as she got the job done - but if she thought about it and felt nothing, if there was no remorse and no what if and no _I'm sorry _to whisper like a ghost to nobody because she wasn't sure if she believed in anything after life, if there was _nothing there, _then her greatest fear would be only her.

Only her, and nothing else.

It was a little bit of a scary thought, so Sakura awoke at five twenty-six in the morning when the air was fresh and the sky was covered in light gray to slip on a different set of her customary white skirt and red top, leaving a hastily scribbled note that she was out for the morning on the kitchen counter as she walked out the front door.

The sky was covered in clouds. She stepped out onto the light dirt road that wound around the village through every street and back-alley, out to the front of Konoha, to the very edges of the walls and the mountains. She hummed a little tune, tranquil green eyes mellow and focused in front of her, one step after another; the village was calm, in the sense that everyone was still sleeping and enjoying the peace - it was nice. Sakura enjoyed it.

Her feet scuffed the cobblestones, each footstep making a gentle clack (because even if she was a ninja, the amusement of moving silently when not needing to had faded long ago - hearing herself was almost like a comfort) as the academy passed by on her right, all dull watermelon red and green grass laced with dew, the full trees littering little droplets every so often.

One landed right on her head; she rubbed the offending water off a little and continued, her eyes carefully staying away from the stone bench.

(That was a weakness, too, and maybe one day when she was strong enough she would come back to sleep for a night here again, to make a different memory to overlap the old one.)

And for some reason, that didn't sound like it would ever work.

She opted to ignore it instead, and her footsteps quieted until the sound all but vanished as the village gates loomed in the distance, a little like a bittersweet feel and a little like sore muscles after an intense training session that hurt like hell but only make you stronger in the end; she ran her fingers over what she held in her palm gently as she casually veered to the left, between several buildings, as the wall grew larger until it was right in front of her.

Finally stopping, Sakura waited.

She closed her eyes - hearing enhances when the vision is cut off; quite useful, really, and she knew because of the training she went through with Tsunade, and she even tested it out on Lee (the bruises stayed for several days, needless to say). She did better there than she thought she would have against the exuberant young man, however, and so her ears pricked for the right moment, a little chakra subconsciously flowing into them to sharpen the sounds, and when there was a slight scuffle and then the breathing of the chuunin guard evened out again, until it was a truly half-asleep breathing pattern, she jumped.

Straight up, feet gluing to the wall with chakra as she vaulted over, sticking close to it and darting behind the trees when she hit ground. She stopped breathing, chakra still in her ears, and when not a sound was made except for a quiet little snore, her tensed muscles relaxed a little and Sakura slipped away.

It was strange, Sakura supposed. She would have to stop doing it sometime, because holding onto things like this couldn't be healthy for her mental welfare - but it did make her feel better, and that was what counted for now, right?

The grass was still wet, full of the rain from the night and the early morning's dew and she paused to slip her black boot-sandals off, slinging them over her shoulder as she fingered the little piece of dark cloth, dry but still soaked with the stench of blood. And she started walking, the grass slick beneath her feet, between her toes, slow and easy all the way to her destination.

It was early - no need to rush. Slow down. Enjoy the moment. Apologize, Sakura.

"Right," she breathed, and after fifteen minutes of walking her slow gait stopped completely at the base of the tree trunk - larger than all the rest by far, seperated from the others a little bit and far from any civilization, making it the perfect spot to pick, all those years ago - and she quietly dropped the boots to the ground soundlessly.

This was her ritual.

"You will grow," Sakura murmured as her knees hit the ground softly, her bare hand making quick work of the ground to make a tiny little hole, a little plot of dirt near the others. Her hand - still little, still a bit like a child's - unfurled like a flower and gently slid into her side pouch, plucking a seed out and laying seed and cloth together into the dirt, covering them soil and patting the soft mound.

"...Amaranth," she exhaled and smiled a not terribly happy smile. "Longevity. Unfading. I don't mean to be ironic. I apologize. It feels... fitting. I was out of purple hyacinth seeds, anyway."

Her ungloved hand went back to her pouch, a palm-sized vial of clear liquid coming out. She uncorked it and poured the whole contents onto the mound, in four unconnected lines, four lines straight down in the symbol on the man's headband, that seeped into the mound and disappeared soon enough.

She was still for a moment; then she breathed in deeply, exhaling just as much, and stood, the grass warm underneath her feet, her task completed. Sakura's eyes wandered to the two other once-mounds. They were growing. Excellent.

"You know," she finally said to the just-buried seed and cloth, "You're the first _person_. By my hands, I mean."

The soft orange blooms of the freesia grew freely, small next to the pine green wisteria vines that quietly snaked up the tree trunk, winding around once to reach almost five and a half feet above the ground - perhaps two inches taller than Sakura. One small wisteria bud, looking like a cluster of small flowers, sat serenely at the edge of the vine, an inch from the end. Pure white.

"Innocent, and steadfast. That's what I remember," she continued with a sort of lump in her throat, "And I remember coming here. First time. Twelve-years-old. I was shaken up, a little, even if I tried not to show it. I buried the senbon needle he used, the one I found on the bridge after... after. And I helped take out the weapons from the other's back," she said abruptly, running her arm across her nose. "So I buried that one, too. They're growing. You will, too. You're the first person by my hands, but they... those two were the first people I ever witnessed."

She kept their names to herself as she turned to go home.

(She didn't mention that she had killed monsters before.)

-

* * *

-

She had been elated when she had graduated the academy - second to top of her class.

If anything, Sakura was far from humble and _would _have rubbed it into Ino's face - said girl had also graduated, unfortunately, and however much an accomplishment of several rankings higher was, it hadn't quite made it into the bragging category that would actually _work_.

Oh, good, Sasuke was coming- her heart sped up a little and he stopped in front her her, watching her with the cool indifference only a _mysterious_, misunderstood _man _could have.

"It's time to go. Where's Naruto?"

She deflated a little, but giggled anyway like the young school girl she wasn't supposed to be anymore and jumped up from her seat on the cold concrete bench to converse with him.

"Don't change the subject, Sasuke-kun, who cares about Naruto?"

She turned her nose up as she mentioned how his childhood was anything but normal.

"...He doesn't have any parents." The dark-haired boy turned from her to look for the missing member.

She blinked at the blunt statement, but obviously agreed right away and continued what she had been saying: "He can do whatever he wants. If I acted like him, my parents would get so mad at me! He's so lucky, parents never getting on his ca-"

She stopped quite suddenly, seemingly much to the boy's relief, because his eyes were narrowing and becoming colder as her rant had gone on-

But then something wasn't quite right, and Sasuke turned around quickly as the form of Sakura Haruno, twelve-year-old genin, fell to the ground without so much as a whimper.

-

Sakura had prided herself on knowledge when she was younger, because she knew it was the only thing going for her. As she had grown, she'd focused more on training, though retained her large area of knowledge. This, therefore, was a first when she didn't quite comprehend what was happening.

She was hurled headfirst through the air, despite the fact that she had entered that little light cautiously and straightforward; she was horrified to find that she was right behind somebody with her back turned. Sakura opened her mouth to scream, knowing she would ram straight into the unknowing child, but she was two seconds away from hitting the poor kid and nothing had the chance to leave her mouth.

Screwing her eyes shut, Sakura hoped for the best (whatever that was, because she sure as hell didn't know), but the impact that should've at least caused a concussion to her skull and possible death to the child had never come, and all that had happened was her skidding forward – like she had gone _straight through_ the kid.

Straight through.

"...Oh, my gods," was the first thing that shakily came from her throat (dry as paper, dry as paper-) and she jumped a little, shaking on the inside and out because her voice was suddenly much higher than she was accustomed to. A frightened trill above her alerted Sakura that the white little clay bird was still with her, _thank goodness - _but what just happened-?

"Did we lose him?" the quiet murmur left her lips and she took the moment to assess her surroundings, moving not a bit, years of training keeping her from making a loud sound that would give away her position; what was... this? Cobblestone, vaguely familiar - trees lining the sides of a neat path, a washed out watermelon-red building just beyond her - a pavement bench just next to her-

_A bench. _

And the small presence of a low chakra level behind her - not a threat. Not at the moment. She needed a plan, because wherever she was - _couldn't _be Konoha, of course not - she needed to find out where she could rest, heal herself, mend herself back up together on the inside and out with the little bits of her she had left, and then - and she would think about that later. Later.

Fix yourself up, Sakura. Need to be strong, Sakura. Don't think about it.

She listened to her own advice and tried to nod, clenching her teeth so tightly that the tension in her jaw was almost painful.

"Sakura, what just happened?" A quiet voice behind her asked tentatively. Reflexes sprung her up to spin around and unsheathe a kunai - her last, if memory served correctly - but she overextended her reach, her legs seemed to have shrunk -

Wait.

What?

Sakura looked down at her hands.

Tiny. No gloves. Unblemished.

Her clothes. The old red dress she once wore, once upon a pretend-fairytale.

_Where was her uniform?_

And her legs - still working, not at all bruised, barely any muscle - and her _left arm,_ oh Kami it was _working._

And in front of her, coolly aloof but obviously confused, stood the younger Uchiha.

And by younger - _literally younger._ Sasuke Uchiha, in all of his twelve-year-old glory.

Repeat - _what?_

"Genjutsu," she breathed and briefly savored the feel of _wellness _emanating from her body - twelve-years-old again, not a scratch on perfectly clean skin. "Strange choice, I've never heard of... not that it matters," and he watched blankly as she formed the release sign and surged chakra briefly through her hands.

She waited.

...Nothing happened.

(Well, Sakura, that was anticlimatic.)

_Crap_, she thought briefly before doing the smart thing: turning tail to_ run._

Above her, the clay bird hooted mournfully before following in her wake.

-

Adrenaline was coursing through her - made her feel better, lots better than she actually was - not the point.

"Don't panic don't panic don't panic," she muttered soothing nothings to herself, the clay bird circling overhead before landing before her and scooting closer. She let it hop into her hand and stroked it's head in some form of comfort. Hiding in a bush, that's what it's come to, Sakura - she frowned and tried to clear her head of pointless thoughts.

"I can't wander too far or I'll fall into the river or off a cliff or something..." she tried not to shudder. Several times, she had gone through the standard 'release' sign - supposed to get out of almost any genjutsu, which was the reason so many focused around torture and cut off limbs. If the victim didn't believe they would be able to form the sign then they wouldn't be able to use it.

But this was different, this was something she had never quite experienced before, and it _scared _her, half of her quaking and the little detached part of her mind racing through every analytical tactic she had ever used, read about, every strategy and every forbidden jutsu she could think of -

No, nothing. Nothing came to mind.

(Can't panic now, Sakura. Keep it together, Sakura.)

Deep breaths. That's it. Deep breathing helps.

She inhaled, exhaled. Inhale, exhale. Inhale -

"_I'm panicking!_"

She bit the pad of her thumb in a nervous habit.

Analyze, Sakura. Cool down. Good girl. Think it over. Then _kick some ass._

Oh, right. But think it over first.

She licked her dry lips; it was around nine full minutes after the genjutsu started. First off - not Uchiha style, not at all. The reason they developed the Mangekyou as they had was so it didn't take any time at all. Three days, passing in five seconds. Draining of chakra, but it did the job because genjutsu ate away at chakra the longer it kept up. (_Oh, gods, Uchiha, Mangekyou-_)

Not now. Not now.

Genjutsu. Up to ten minutes, now, not faltering - even Sakura had trouble doing that, and she was a genjutsu type. Sasuke was a ninjutsu type, and she still had an advantage over him at that point; he still didn't have perfect chakra control. Over the years, control was the one thing he still hadn't mastered. In more areas than one. _Stop it._

But that wasted his chakra, and he hadn't had much left by then; she had an idea of his limits, and nothing made sense. Sakura frowned, breaths silent with the seconds ticking by, adding up to more minutes. It didn't add up.

Sasuke had used three Chidoris, each taking about ten percent of his chakra. Using an extra two percent on each one meant he had used up thirty-six percent, and with all his _other _attacks included, plus the chakra he used to enhance his speed, that'd come out to about eighty-five percent of his chakra, gone.

An average adult human body needs about a five to ten percentage of chakra to function properly without completely breaking down, so that meant he only had around five to ten percent chakra to use up, which would be pushing his body to possible death with just a Chidori, but genjutsu takes even more chakra than ninjutsu, and she had been too far in front of him for a direct hit; with all the factors included (_that strange light, Sakura subconsciously remembered)_, it would have been impossible for him to hit her with a genjutsu, and she knew for a fact that _there had been no one else in the area_.

She knew, because Kisame - _oh, gods almighty, sharkman - _Kisame had taken Kabuto down (what was _left_ of Kabuto down. The strange mixture of servant and long dead master was all that had made up Kabuto, in the end).

A chill sprawled down her spine like dripping icecubes, like a giant snowball rolling down her back - cold, numb, and heavy.

Sakura was deathly still, until her hand struck out for a leaf in a flash of quick movement. Not a flicker; it was real from the very moment she touched it.

"This isn't genjutsu," she breathed, little bird nuzzling her hand comfortingly.

And it all fell apart.

(_And would you have done anything differently_?)


	3. The Drowning Man

A/N: ...Leaving for a choir trip to Disneyland (:D :D :D) in a few days, so I thought I would post this up before I forget. :) Anyway: the last two chapters - or, last chapter and the prologue - were written in about two days around a month or so ago, when I was suddenly struck with inspiration to rewrite this. And then I stopped, and then I decided that I would absolutely keep going. Here we go.

* * *

The Drowning Man

-

The rest of her day took her to the hospital, handy-dandy clipboard held loosely in her grip, sporting her white medic coat, smelling of clean linen and sterilization. Sakura took off for lunch, stumbling across Tenten on her way home, and so they stopped at a restaurant instead, chatting like they did ever since they went through ANBU training together months before. And then they finished and parted ways again with cheery good-byes.

It was a nice day. It really was, because the gray sky from yesterday had moved on and the sun was out, not overbearing but present and shining to dry up the left-over puddles and invite the villagers out from the refuge of their homes; the plants were greener.

The clack of footsteps grew farther apart as the transparent doors approached her, and Sakura slowed down as she frowned in puzzlement and growing concern before hastening towards the hospital, because the bustle behind the doors indicated something bigger than usual for the hour had come in-

"Sakura!" Upon entrance, the commanding voice of Tsunade addressed her directly with no room for argument; "We need you in surgical room 12 _now _for emergency operation on Uchiha Sasuke,_ go!"_

The situation would once, perhaps, have left her speechless, but a millisecond after the name was said something kicked her brain into gear and Sakura mastered herself and nodded curtly, thoughts swirling and something rising up her throat painfully that she swallowed back down - no room for choking. Not now. She whisked herself off in the direction of the room, her medical persona taking over as she entered, and she tried not to think about it.

-

And so three hours later, Sakura - exhausted, tired, _drained _- found that the life of Sasuke Uchiha was safe. For now. Oh, there were the regular things - broken ribs, bones, torn tendons and ligaments, fractures and twists, punctures and lacerations - but then topped with extreme chakra depletion, exhaustion, malnourishment, a grade two concussion, and then severe blood loss... it was almost amazing he was alive.

Almost.

But Sakura knew her cases, Sakura had seen her fair share of ninja who died after the danger, after the mission, during the surgery, during recovery. She'd seen a lot, and for some reason wasn't surprised.

"Sakura-sama, Uchiha-san is stabilized at ninety-seven percent," a young nurse - no older than fourteen, maybe? Thirteen? Only a little older than herself when she had started her career, her own game of getting better at being somebody - stated quickly, almost nervously but perhaps relieved. The girl had no doubt never been near the surgery room before this.

"Thank you. Good job," and so the medic smiled a smile that didn't quite belong on her face at the moment. The young girl nodded and gave a small, shy little smile of her own in return before turning and leaving the room. The chair that Sakura had previously let herself down onto, once all the other medic-nin had left, squeaked slightly as she eased herself up effortlessly with the grace of a ninja; she quietly sauntered to the bed, slow strides, tired breathing but straight back. Have poise, Sakura. Good girl, Sakura, now smile for the camera.

"...So. This is you, isn't it?"

Well.

That wasn't exactly what she wanted to get out.

She had actually thought about what she would say if something similar to this were to happen; Sakura wasn't going to deny that the thoughts kept her up at night. When she was thirteen and fourteen, mostly, and not too much, but maybe sometimes when she remembered and the old picture of Team 7 was a little too cold; she grew out of it. She had wanted to say something _cool, _while sounding _completely badass awesome. _

At least he wasn't conscious.

"...Nn. Hello. Guess I can't play the bad-girl too well. Ino says I'm too nice." She laughed awkwardly. The quietly breathing body, lying on the bed in front of her, made no move to show he heard her. Just as well. Sakura cleared her throat.

"I'll check up on you later, Uchiha-san," because she couldn't forget that he was a patient, and maybe she didn't know this young man before her at all. It didn't _hurt, _but the thought was _strange _and really didn't make her feel one way or the other; but still, Sakura nodded quietly, checking the barriers set up one last time before finally leaving the room without looking back.

-

_Tap, tap._

She muttered something incomprehensible before flipping herself around on the bed, away from the noise.

_Tap, tap._

The pillow, being used as a snuggle-buddy, was promptly replaced over her head to muffle the sound.

Contented sigh. Oh, good, it went away.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

Sakura groaned and, fully awake, snapped her eyes open to pull the pillow off of her head and slip her hand to the kunai she always kept under the mattress, just in case, before turning to the source of the noise.

Naruto was sitting on her windowsill, feet glued down, tapping with a less than half-hearted smile that looked more like a grimace than anything.

"You could've opened it yourself, you know how to open locked windows," she whispered after quietly unlatching said glass, but Naruto just flipped in and shook his head.

"You might've thought I was some weirdo trying to assassinate you," he said, but the normal cheer that was usually present in his voice was lacking. Fallen straight through to the ground.

"Do you know how they found him?" He asked seriously before she could attempt a weak retort for the sake of normalcy, turning to her, all orange and black and blonde and blue eyes seeming deeper in the cold light from the open window, letting in the almost icy breeze that easily inflitrated the too-warm room. Sakura didn't bother to ask how he knew.

Sighing, she pulled up her desk chair and Naruto took a seat on her bed without asking, elbows leaning on his knees, the usual childish disposition of fidgeting completely gone. Sakura shook her head.

"I only performed surgery - three hours. I was too tired to do anything but write up the rest of my reports and crash. He was pretty bad," and the name wasn't needed, no subject introduction needed, because to her, this was like... this was like somebody telling you that you have a giant exam next year, and you know _exactly_ what it's about, know exactly what you need to study, but you don't know when next year is, don't know if it means two months into next year or eleven. And then it hits you, Sakura mused, and you're still not ready just yet.

And oh, Kami, have they been preparing and waiting and trying for _such a long time_-

"He was running away from the Sound, Sakura. He was in the Grass Country, but Chouji and Shikamaru were on a mission and - and they saw him," and Naruto paused to swallow something down and Sakura knew exactly what was climbing up his throat like a wooden ladder with steel, "and he was on the run. Killed about a half dozen of the guys following him - when he got to Shikamaru and Chouji he just breezed right past, but he was losing it, Shikamaru said, so a bunch of the Sound guys following him - they took care of them, and then when they were coming back to Konoha they found him."

"...Near here?"

Naruto nodded wordlessly.

"He was coming _back_?" Sakura whispered with that ladder climbing up her throat with pins and needles in steady steel buckets, a little hoarse and a little tired and a little disbelieving.

Naruto could only shake his head because he didn't know, and she embraced him and they were both silent.

-

It was sort of unfair, Sakura couldn't help but think, but she didn't know exactly what she was thinking of - the fact that it took so much from him to get away? The fact that the whole damn thing took so much out of Naruto and herself? The fact that this just _happened_ to people, and you couldn't do anything about it, the fact that it should've been _them _because they _said _they would get him _together-_

But wishing that the sky was green wouldn't make it any less blue, so that was that and Sakura could only shake her head and keep walking. Which was hard, of course, and she wasn't one to be ready to move on easily; she was really somebody to just _flay _herself with what-if's and could-have's and should-have-been's, and this one was one of the worst. And yet this was also one of the easiest things to move away from.

(And maybe there was something deeply metaphorical about that, or maybe it was just abnormal fatigue coupled with an intense hunger, as she hadn't eaten within the past eight hours.)

As to where she was going - well. Where she tended to when thoughts weighed down like Chouji on a mini-scale during recooperation time where he had to gain his weight back pronto, which was to the small path branching off from the main one leading to the house of Hyuuga.

The weather was perfect, of course -a happy gray light, pastel shades of blue and purple painted on clouds, closing in that seemed to promise a sprinkle of rain soon - a time for gardening, which was Hinata's favorite pastime and one Sakura admired.

She actually knew many flowers, and their properties. How could she not? Herbs and poisons were Shizune's speciaty, and so Sakura had _inherited_, if she so chose a word that didn't quite fit the situation right, the knowledge readily and happily. Poisons were more of Tsunade's thing, but Shizune knew just as much - if not more - on the brewing and preparation of said devices.

Her mind was elsewhere, but Sakura's attention quickly focused back to where her feet had led her to, because the path she had been following had left her quite some time ago, replaced by green green green grass that somehow always kept the morning dew delicately balanced on top of graceful blades to spray her legs playfully, but this was nothing new.

A small, pure white paper latern greeted her instead, hung from a tree carefully with a loving amount of balance; it was never really on, Sakura knew, but it added a nice effect to the atmosphere. Calming, forever and always, like the marker of a sort of sanctum, somehow, refreshing and welcoming and with_ love_.

Hinata seemed to have that atmosphere, Sakura knew, and so she walked underneath the pale ashen wood to the garden, and was not surprised to find her friend quietly tending to her plants.

"Hinata," Sakura called softly, treading lightly on the grass to the clearing beside the trees. The young woman in question, coming into view as the kunoichi grew closer, finished patting the soft mound she kneeled in front of firm before turning and allowing a gentle smile to her lips.

"Hello, Sakura," and it was soft and gentle, just like the speaker. Hinata seemed to have that atmosphere, Sakura knew, because when the young ninja before her had grown she had acquired some sort of gentle inner strength, when she had grown she had _grown_, thrown aside the need for her family's acceptance and moved on for herself, cultivating this sort of _love _for everything that was always present in this garden glade.

Sakura admired it, embraced it, found solace in it. Hinata was strong where fists couldn't do the things acceptance could - an inner peace, of sorts, and it was truly surprising to find it in anybody at such a young age. Neji seemed to have that, too, in a different manner that suited him, but it was there nonetheless.

"...Hey," because she didn't know quite what to say; Sakura sat down criss-cross-apple-sauce like the days of childhood long since gone in the the grass next to her friend.

"...I've heard that Uchiha-san was recovered from outside," Hinata offered simply, skipping any pleasantries; it was a relief, in a way, and Sakura nodded because Hinata's eyes saw maybe a little more than just everything on the external side of things. Sakura was grateful for being one of the few the shy girl opened her mind and smile to; she didn't stutter around friends, and almost transformed. If Sakura were younger, she would think of her as a sort of fairy (but she wasn't, so she wouldn't). Still - still. It felt like a privelege, almost.

"He was," the pink-haired medic agreed, tilting her head back slightly. Her eyes flickered up towards the sky. "He's in the hospital, recooperating right now."

Hinata waited patiently, gently scraping the aphids off by pulsing chakra into the plant before her.

"And... and it wasn't me or Naruto," she continued, looping her short hair behind her ear, "because we said we would. But... Shikamaru and Chouji found him near here. We don't know if he was coming back or not."

Hinata tilted her head softly towards Sakura, dark hair draped across her back, and waited again - that was what made Hinata the best listener, Sakura thought absently. No pressure, everything comes in it's own time, _relax_.

"And... and it's just sort of... it's both hard and easy to handle. I don't know how to react," Sakura confessed, "because Naruto and I have both dreamed about it but now we have no idea what to do. He... he can't be the same," she finished, sort of lamely.

She was handed a small bag of seeds; Hinata quietly pointed to a bare patch of dirt near them. Sakura extracted one little seed to plant, and they were both silent.

"It would... be silly to think he would be the same as he left four years ago," the soft voice finally said, "because all people change over time. What is... frightening, you could say, is the very real possibility that he grew in a way you and Naruto-kun did not."

Sakura looked up from the ground to Hinata. "...What if it's true?" It was there, out in the open now, no take-backs and it was frightening, just like she said and it was _frightening_.

The dark-haired girl with pearl eyes glanced up briefly, connecting with Sakura's light blue-green irises, and there was a thoughtful silence for a moment as she finished.

"Wait and see," she finally stated as her back straightened, her work done. "It's no good to count your kunai before you know how many you can hold." She brushed off her hands with a ghost of a smile on her lips as she stood soundlessly. Sakura finished her own mound.

"If his insides have coiled... the only thing you can do is heal him, by opening your arms, by leaving a light on. When given the choice to save the drowning man or walk away? Jump into the water."

She extended her hand; Sakura felt warmer on the inside as she took it and stood. They left, leaving footsteps in the grass.

-

* * *

-

How do you _adjust _to this sort of thing?

How do you _accept _it?

It _wasn't _a bad dream, and that was the hardest to think of most of all.

Sakura wasn't sure. She wasn't sure about a lot of things, things piling up and up over the past few years of her life, but this was new in a radically different way - how could she _cope_? The possibilities were mind-blowing, exploding like fireworks and grenades and lights and gore. Which was like two directions, really, and which one to take?

"He isn't here yet!" The young boy finally exclaimed loudly, a sort of childish anger drawing his eyebrows down over blue blue eyes that swept around the room to further the point. "Well, I'll show him!"

And just like that, Naruto Uzumaki, twelve-year-old genin dragged a stool to the door with a chalk eraser in hand to set up a prank, true to his reputation.

Sakura, in question, was seated at a desk in the front of the room, and _guess who was sitting five rows behind her six seats to the right _-

And she tried not to shudder, skin feeling thin and goosebumps present.

The little comfort in her pocket wasn't enough, but she had learned to be grateful for what she had and maybe she was spoiled, over the years, but it came flooding back soon enough and she smiled warmly at the little white head butting against her hand in her pocket.

"...Wouldn't fall for _that_," he was saying, he was saying coolly even if he had yet to master that true ice-like quality of a snowman, of sorts; Sakura's neck prickled.

And then the door opened -

And Kakashi fell for it, and something in her jolted and made her want to laugh and made her eyes water a little.

Kakashi blinked. Naruto laughed. Sasuke grunted.

And Sakura?

She could only stare and try to will the butterflies in her stomach, of something that wasn't quite fear but similar, to flap in formation.

-

Introductions led them to the roof to lay in the sun.

Reminded her of the old ANBU days. Days of working hard; espionage and assassinations, and when it would be over they would lie down and say nothing, just try to relax and try to justify themselves-

(Nevermind. Forget she said anything.)

"You first," the blonde demanded of the man in front of them, as if he was expecting to be tricked; and she wasn't surprised, a minute feeling of guilt swelling in her chest.

Make it better this time around, Sakura.

"...I have a few hobbies," he was saying, vague and general and unconcerned, really saying nothing, so like himself - the boy protested, but was cut off. "Your turn."

He 'hmphed,' and then gave his introduction.

Naruto was a little boy with a big dream that was a mile high, Naruto was a little boy with a big heart that couldn't be measured in simple things like miles that just kept growing - Naruto was a little boy, just a little boy to her, but he was worth something already and made her smile.

And then-

Avenge. Already that was all he could think about. (Not Naruto.)

Sasuke was a young boy with a dark dream that was eating him up slowly like a meat grinder, Sasuke was a young boy with hatred and envy and everything bad in the world swarming around him and inside of him like millions of bugs feeding off of his innards - Sasuke was a young boy, just a young boy to her, but he was planning and plotting and angry already and made her cold on the inside.

All eyes were on her.

One pair bright and eager, one pair aloof, uncaring, and one eye mildly curious and lazy.

This is how she remembered them.

"I'm Haruno Sakura. I like..."

And this is where logic came into play - she could do things the same. Same dress, same attitude, same weakness. Have it all turn out like it did, like it should.

(Dead men tell no tales. And oh, _gods_, did she wish they did-)

Make it better, Sakura.

"I like training and umeboshi. I don't like people who... are cruel, for no reason, for a bad reason. Dream... ah. And for my hobby - I like gardening."

Don't jump through the circus hoop. Good ninja, maybe you'll be rewarded.

The little white clay bird cooed comfortingly, sitting under her curtain of long pink hair and nuzzling her neck as talk turned to other, more important matters.

"...Don't be late," Kakashi said. "And don't eat breakfast. You'll end up puking it back up."

And with a smile shown by the familiar crinkle of his eye, he vanished in a small puff of smoke.

They sat in silence for a moment.

They seemed rather nervous, she observed. She had been, too.

"Sakura," the voice interrupted her thoughts, "what happened earlier?"

She turned her head to regard the Uchiha. Everytime she looked at him she trembled, she couldn't help it - she needed to stop it. It would become a habit, and she _would not_ let it.

"Oh, a rock hit my head and I got confused," she replied vaguely and matter-of-factly as she stood. "I'm heading home. See you guys tomorrow."

Sakura was surprised at how casual she was with them, as if it were a normal day, a normal life. Well, she _had_ been... _gifted_ at espionage missions that required acting. Geisha, spoiled daughters, priestesses, maids. She had executed them all with a finesse that she really didn't have.

She remembered once. Dressed up as a princess. It made her feel pretty, and special. The senbon in her hair and the kunai lining her kimono did not.

"...Hn."

"Bye, Sakura-chan! Oh, oh, do you need me to walk you home?"

Sakura couldn't help but smile warmly. "That's alright, Naruto, I think I'll get there fine by myself. G'bye."

As she walked away, she could feel eyes burning a hole in her back. In her mind, she felt the same thing against a canvas of dead trees and littered leaves; things weren't so different from hours earlier, were they?

She shook her head of such thoughts and tried to remember the way to a house that was not her home.

-

"...Mom, I'm... home?"

It felt so strange to say that.

Especially when - when - (_oh, gods_) -

Mother wasn't home, so Sakura quietly entered the house, feeling like a stranger; across the warm wooden flooring, looking left to the small kitchen that was painted golden yellow and right to the pastel-green colored living room with the TV set up nicely in a corner, the couch openly set around it with a familiar bookcase in the corner next to a beige recliner she remembered, as well. Up the stairs, absently counting the steps one two three four, then skipping every other one up to ten and then fourteen and sixteen and she was at the top.

Sakura shuffled into her room.

Warm. There was lots of wood, just like she remembered, with an open window that let in a breath of summer air that lifted the cotton curtains lazily; a large mirror was set in the corner near her desk, uncluttered, with the little torso manikin sporting a shirt she used to like, yet never wore, set carefully in front of her closet. The bed was neatly made up, the sheets light pink, the pillows white. Prim, proper.

With the warm air swirling around the room, the cool wood seeping in through her feet, the smell of home being inhaled deeply with each breath to settle in her lungs, on her tongue - everything was still, everything was moving. She was in a memory.

A soft hoot brought Sakura back to life. She shifted and moved into the room, almost awkwardly, and sat down on the bed, the bird fluttering from her shoulder to her lap.

"I need to name you," she decided aloud, looking down at the little white thing. It was so soft - if she tried to bend it, mold it, she no doubt could, but Sakura found the idea mutely horrifying and cradled it gently as she could.

"How about... Dei. I like that." It hooted and butted its little head against her palm. "...I know, not the most original thing, but you have a namesake, yeah?" She smiled openly but it quickly faded as she spotted her own hand. Her right hand.

The hand she had lifted to push against the silver light.

She held it against her left in comparison and felt something like muted, slow panic rise in her chest and fall back down. Rise, and fall back down; after a moment she realized it was her own breathing, that there was a sort of dull panic with each inhalation, with each exhale.

Her left hand was perfectly normal. Dainty, almost, with fingernails trimmed neatly to leave length. Why she had _long fingernails _she had no idea; she cut them incredibly short since her fourteenth year because any vainness she had possessed ran out and she grew up.

But her right hand sported a sort of healed-over scar, as if it were many years old - a white line, shining and pale. It ran straight across her fingers in a low arch, thick as her pinky finger.

She experimentally flexed her digits, opening and closing her hand. She hadn't noticed it before because she didn't feel anything - no, there was a little tiny catch, right there, right where the skin was hard, all across. Sakura frowned.

She held it up to her face for closer inspection and then instinctively recoiled, as if from a blow - the scar caught the light and the... reflection? Whatever it was, refraction of light or not, reflected and nearly blinded her. Breathing quietly, Sakura squinted and looked again more carefully.

And again the scar, no thicker than her pinky and running the length of her hand, caught the light like a moon.

After a silent moment Sakura stood, and went to look for bandages to cover it with. As she passed by her full length mirror, she stopped; her eyes traveled the length of her body, taking it in, almost as if analyzing or looking for something.

Long hair. Red dress. Grossly underdeveloped muscles - her legs she could manage with, but the arms needed work. Arms.

Jade eyes rested for a long time on those arms until she slowly rolled up her sleeves to reveal bare flesh. She drank it all in like a poison to her system and, after time restarted again, let out a sigh a mile long that was full of old air and death and a lot of things she'd rather not think about, and continued on her search, rolling her sleeves back down and trying not to look.

For Sakura felt oddly naked without the two tattoos that once adorned her skinny, unlovely arms.

A black swirl of the Leaf and a red cloud of the Dawn.

(Konoha and Akatsuki, one on either side, and why did that feel like the story of her life?)

So she kept her eyes firm in front of her and tried not to think about it.


	4. Building a Mountain

* * *

A/N: This chapter is in thanks to Satoshii, who made me remember and start up my Naruto-writing gears again.

* * *

Building a Mountain

-

"Who are you?"

The sunlight streaming through the half-opened window made the room warm, and the off-white walls had a nice sort of glow to them. The air was thick with summer while the bugs hummed shrilly-dull in the background noise, and the bright green leaves of the trees cast shadows on pale skin that did not warm, did not move, did not color to be in synch with the branches to the buzz of the bugs as her breathing sped up by itself; he was nothing, and Sakura found that incredibly lonely.

"Who are you?" She asked again, and black lashes were long and closed, hiding dark-tunnel eyes on the face with pale skin that wouldn't warm wouldn't move wouldn't smile - he was completely out of place in the homey atmosphere, and the thought made an uncomfortable pain bloom in her chest.

Sakura was standing next to the bed, and her hand was hovering over that pale, pale face, close but not touching, never touching. And she could almost feel the coldness radiating off of him (and oh, Hinata, Kami, it was _frightening_).

He was nothing, or if he was something he sure wasn't much of anything. His face was gaunt, cheekbones almost hollow from malnutrition. They would fill out soon with proper vitamins and healthy food. During the surgery she could see the outline of his ribs from the front. His hair had been stringy and caked with things she would have honestly rather not known about, clothes torn and so, so pale and she wondered if he was drowning.

Sakura withdrew her hand and left the room hastily.

-

Sai was sitting on an old, worn park bench when she passed by - the looming trees overhead seemed content with letting their leaves rustle noisily to the breeze, and the air smelled like summer and warmth and home. She was initially going to keep walking, because though she didn't understand drawing very well she knew enough about concentration and didn't want to bother him, because an irritable Sai led to an even worse Sakura and didn't she know that, though she suspected Naruto knew that most of all.

However, Sai's sketch pad - well-worn, well-loved and looking more than a little ratty and tired sitting next to him - was unopened, and he was just sitting.

So the girl with pink hair who wasn't so much of a girl anymore, not anymore because she finished her first solo mission see see and she was strong now and and - and she wasn't going to let herself stumble down that path of thought again, so the girl with pink hair who wasn't so much of a girl anymore approached her teammate, her friend, and slid onto the opposite side of the bench.

Despite the fact that he did seem to enjoy socializing, Sai didn't appear to be inclined to today. Sakura's patience promptly buried itself after a few long moments and she spoke first.

"Hello, Sai."

"Hello, Sakura," the young man replied evenly after a moment, his voice still a pleasant yet empty sort of monotone, face and eyes still focusing somewhere in front of him.

"You're more polite than usual today," she commented, and Sakura took the moment to study the boy's profile carefully. He was a sort of art himself, she figured, though she wasn't very good with anything creative outside of logic and tactics. He was made of lines, she thought, lots of flowing lines, his dark eyes, the way his nose ran. He had a nice profile. If she hadn't known him so well he could have even been handsome.

But she did and there was something wrong with him, her friend, though at times it didn't always feel like it.

"The leaves swirl in a different twist today," he answered idly, which wasn't much of an answer at all but it was Sai. "They make me want to pour ink over them to drip down the tree and meet with the dirt to be eaten by the ants, mix with the soil and grow."

Sai was not-Sai today. Which fit perfectly, because she was not-Sakura and that was not-Sasuke lying on the bed untouched and unwarmed and gaunt and pale pale pale.

"You aren't drawing," she said for lack of anything better to say.

"I'm not," he agreed, and he didn't look at her and didn't move.

"Sasuke is in the hospital, and after he wakes up and Naruto hits him and I say he deserved it you should meet him," she said stupidly, and immediately knew it wasn't one of the best things to say. Sai's knuckles whitened as his grip on the black paintbrush tightened imperceptibly.

"If you want me to," he said calmly, because it was one of those not-right things to say from her to him, and then there was only the ratty sketchbook between them that shuffled quietly as the wind passed them.

Minutes passed in silence until Sakura tried, "you don't like him?"

Sai did not reply.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

No answer.

"You could give him a special nickname."

Only the trees answered as the wind made the leaves move noisily.

"Naruto and I will still be your friends."

This one finally made Sai jerk a little - and that was it, and she hit the target straight on and Sakura bravely surged forward.

"You're worried."

Sai frowned.

"You think that we'll replace you with him."

His eyes were everywhere and anywhere except for where she was sitting. Sakura scooted closer.

"Friends don't do that. I don't know what crap you read in those stupid books, but friends care about each other and don't forget each other. And we stick together, and Sai is Sai."

He glanced at her for the first time. It was side-ways, not willing, but it happened and she was getting somewhere and it was suddenly such a nice day.

"Who else would I be?" He finally asked, and she smiled.

-

Sitting around in her messy room, lazing on the bed, watching the fan spin with a good book in her lap and the summer air drifting in from the window wasn't something Sakura did often, but wished she did more. It was nice. It felt so normal, so clean despite the gear and scrolls and weapons littering the floor, despite the fact that the book in her loose grip was a medical book. Just lying down on her crumpled white bed with her foot on the pillow and the radio buzzing in the background. That was nice.

"Sakura-chan?"

The sudden disturbance made her jolt up and pop her spine rather painfully; Sakura eyed the man at the window while rubbing her back, relaxing again.

"Kakashi-sensei could have warned me," she groused, but the silver-haired man's lone eye crinkled in a smile and he waved it off with two fingers, a shadowed figure against the light.

"Hokage-sama sent me to get you," said the man. His lone eye slowly moved left, then right, then back to settle on his student. "That's funny. I always expected you to be a little neater than Naruto."

A snort passed from her flared nostrils and Sakura stood to stretch languidly, yawning. "You aren't one to talk at all, sensei." Sakura rubbed her eyes a little, carefully marking her place in the book she had already read, setting it on her nightstand. She dismissed the rest of the room as a lost cause, promising herself to clean up later, and instead turned her attention towards herself.

A honest laugh, good-natured and teasing, passed through her ears. Sakura pulled her sandal-boots on and when she turned, the window was empty.

-

There was always the hottest points of the day, during the summer, where Sakura would just enjoy being inside, away from the heat and the burn and the sweat and the dirt. And there were always the buildings that were so air-conditioned and cold that Sakura would long for the heat, because the cold sent up little goosebumps and froze little beads of sweat and if this was anything to her it was foreboding.

"Sakura-chan," Tsunade murmured and she waved her from her spot against the doorframe inside. The woman's desk was, predictably, covered with scattered paperwork, ink and pens and brushes and blank paper and filled paper amalgamating into one sore mess, the Hokage's office a mockery of what it once looked like. But that was okay, Sakura couldn't help but think. "Come on in."

Complying, Sakura moved from her spot in the doorway and picked her way across the floor, careful not to step on any papers, and sat down in front of her mentor with a slightly hesitant smile. "Kakashi-sensei told me shishou wanted to see me."

Tsunade yawned widely and loudly, setting down the brush that had been resting in her smooth, red-nailed fingers, leaving a perfect indentation on the pad of her thumb. The hand moved up to rub at the point where both eyes started briefly as the woman blinked and focused her hazel eyes in front of her. She smiled briefly in response, setting her elbows upon the table as her hands clasped.

"Yes. Sakura-chan, you've been the assigned doctor to comatose patient #826 Uchiha Sasuke since the boy's arrival." Tsunade leaned back in her worn chair, absently cracking her back by shifting, looking briefly out the window behind her before returning her gaze to Sakura, a slight smile that was half of a grin and half of a grimace playing at her lips, her lips that were painted red, that Sakura had come to associate with strength. "Why do think it was you?"

Sakura blinked, and she felt suddenly very lonely and small sitting in the chair that might as well have been a million kilometers away from the desk. She wasn't one to go with mild feelings often: in fact, Sakura remembered once hearing the saying, 'men think, women feel.' She had cut her hair to grow, and continued to cut it to be less of the little girl she once was. And ninjas weren't supposed to feel much at all, and only gut instincts in the heat of the mission were good to follow. Mild feelings were just emotions, and Sakura had once toyed with the idea of boying herself up to walk around the citizen's district of Konoha, with a wig of short brown hair and blue eyes and a bound chest with baggy clothes. Because she didn't know when Ino had stopped being a good enough rival, because Tsunade was one in a million.

And Sakura didn't want to be the third-wheel of Team Seven. When Sasuke would one day awaken, Sakura would join the race. She would be a new challenger, between the three of them, and that sounded a little unfriendly, a little unfeeling, but Sakura didn't want to be the one _left behind. _She would meet them one day, head on, and she would meet them on top of her own mountain. And she'd be damned if it wasn't higher than theirs. It would be. It could be a sort of obsession, if Sakura was honest with herself, but there it was: protecting her precious people was important, and not only did she have to be strong to do that, but in order to do that Sakura had to protect Sakura. That was definitely part of it, and she was beginning to see that.

"Because I need to grow," Sakura finally said.

Tsunade smiled, wide and open, laid back on the old black reclining office chair and facing the side window, the sunlight pouring over her profile as she laughed.

-

* * *

-

It was a nice day.

Clear sky, nearly nonexistant breeze, fresh grass and a lively sun. It was nice, it really was-

"I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Oh, _Naruto. _Sakura sighed internally. As a teenager, Naruto had been lively and often times still annoying; as a young man, he had retained that sort of dopiness that she was fond of, still overreacting, the same erratic behavior. She had almost forgotten him as a child. (_Wow, no wonder no one ever felt bad for him_...)

Sakura promptly ignored that rather vicious thought and kept her mouth shut, hidden in the foliage. A loud rumble, roughly seven feet to her right and perhaps four feet back, alerted her to the fact that she was the only one to have eaten. _Idiots! _It was important for a ninja to gain the required daily amount of nutrition in each food group, or at _least _to have something in their stomachs. But how would they know that?

The throwing stars whizzed past her ears - Sakura remembered a time when she would've flinched and dived, but now she stilled completely and blinked in retaliation before moving away; the throwing stars automatically gave away Sasuke's position, of course, and he realized too late. She had always seen him as far above herself, and it was so odd. He didn't know very much at all. Didn't - he didn't know anything, did he? He never would, never could, never-

Sakura focused and waited. She sensed Kakashi coming up from behind, and it seemed the man wasn't using very much effort with them. What a joke. Her ears prickled and her brain attempted to twitch her muscles and send goosebumps up all along her back in some sort of bizarre warning, but Sakura was twelve, she was no longer a high-ranking ninja, and kids always started somewhere, right? Children who obviously weren't prodigies wouldn't be ready for this. She wouldn't be ready for this until she was fourteen at the least, which is where her thoughts were when he tapped her shoulder lightly and she twirled around, playing the lost little girl - caught up in the genjutsu, and - there, there, such an easy genjutsu, so easily dispelled but she would wait - wait for it - there, dead Sasuke, dead Naruto, deadeadeadeadead and that was just a little frightening, but she pretended she didn't see it and opened her mouth to scream her heart out.

It actually felt pretty good, Sakura thought, as she pretended to panic until seeming to regain common sense and dispelling the genjutsu. Screaming. She felt a little lighter, it hurt a little less.

Waiting until Kakashi was truly out of her range, Sakura stretched and popped her knuckles, taking the chance to enjoy the moment. Her bird was fluttering somewhere around here, she knew, just out of sight and waiting for her call.

"New beginnings, yeah?"

A soft, distant chirp responded. Sakura smiled wryly.

"The sun is shining, Naruto is being an idiot, and I'm twelve. We'll see what happens."

Turning, she walked towards where the commotion seemed to be, and -

"Oh, dear."

Sasuke glared at her. Sakura tried not to laugh openly at the boy as the only thing visible was his ruffled head, sticking up from the ground. Sakura slowly made her way towards him, taking care to not let out the smile threatening its way across her face. She looked at him for a moment. Sasuke was just a twelve-year-old boy, and she needed to remember that. Nothing less, nothing more.

After a moment of silence, Sakura tried her best to smile. "Need help?" Sasuke looked away, what she could've sworn to be a rather angry and embarrassed pink stain marring his cheeks, and took his irritated silence as a go-ahead.

And she dug him out, one clump of dirt at a time.

-

Sakura wasn't exactly one to be lax about things, but she was surprised with herself when she found she was taking the test as less of a rite of passage and more of a joke as she looked down at the bento Kakashi-sensei had provided them. Naruto's stomach grumbled loudly and exagerratedly behind her, and a twinge of humor set a smile on her face. Trying to look as disapproving as she could - despite being his would-be-best-friend (which sounded odd to her; maybe 'despite the fact she would one day be his best friend?' 'Despite one day being his would-be best friend? Sakura eventually abandoned the thought in favor of things that wouldn't give her a migraine), she didn't want the poor kid to get even _more_ of a crush on her, seeing as it would be fairly awkward and she didn't really know how to handle the younger sets of genin anyway - Sakura turned to look at him as Sasuke's bashful face frowned and looked away as he thrust his own bento at the blonde.

"Your no good to us without your strength," Sasuke finally told the grass. Naruto seemed to have overheard.

"Sasuke-san is right," Sakura agreed, but made no move to feed the boy tied to the post herself, and opted to pop some chicken into her own mouth. Sasuke frowned, and it must have been painful for both boys, Sakura would later think in amusement; the Uchiha picked up some food with his chopsticks and fed the blonde, in a feat that would've had both gagging in embarrassment were it any other situation.

The clouds darkened overhead as the wind picked up, the genjutsu fairly realistic as Sakura allowed herself to be swept into it with her teammates. Kakashi appeared in a puff of smoke, almost towering over them, pretending - fairly realistically, Sakura would concede - to be angrier than an irritated, drunken Tsunade on a losing streak.

"You pass," and the storm cleared and the wind died and the sun shined. Naruto seemed genuinely surprised, and said as much in an ear-splitting yell. Kakashi scratched his head a bit and straightened up to a normal, lax position, hands tucked into his pockets, leaning back on a leg.

"But - why?!" Naruto finally exploded. Kakashi seemed to regard him with a critical eye, something Sakura didn't remember seeing often, but it relaxed and he looked above their heads.

Obito and Rin, Sakura thought. Isn't that right, Kakashi-sensei? Poor sensei. It happens, doesn't it? And it never stops hurting, either, or are you just flaying yourself with it, she wondered, and tried to keep quiet.

"...But... those who don't take care of their comrades... are lower than trash," the teacher stated bluntly. Sasuke's posture straightened a little. Newfound respect? Naruto seemed dazzled by the man. Sakura wondered if she had been like that, briefly, before standing and brushing her skirt off as they left-

And conveniently forgetting Naruto behind, until his outraged shouting brought about Sasuke being elected to jog back and untie the poor boy. Sakura shared a laugh with Kakashi-sensei, and she was being dazzled herself. New beginnings, and this was something wonderful, wasn't it? Her little bird slipped into her bag and the comforting presence sent warm waves across her body.

-

She could never live their lives.

But - they still had so much - they didn't know _anything. _Of course not. How could they? They were just children, and Naruto was so ready to be worth something that putting his life on the line didn't seem so bad when he shouted more or less the same thing to the Hokage and they were formally introduced to Tazuna. The Third believed in them, she knew as much, and Sakura remembered how it would turn out, but it didn't stop the small seed of worry for the little boys to bloom in her stomach.

And that was another thing. The Third - seeing someone she expected as quite dead could be counted as a sort of system shock. Sakura remembered in her younger years seeing him as almost some sort of divine being: the feelings she had of him being somehow omniscient hadn't worn off in all those years, she was surprised to find. His eyes were sunken and lined and kind, but they weren't old. She had uncomfortably hidden her hand by clasping it behind her back for the duration of the mission report and briefing - Sakura had forgotten to cover it with something, which she had made a mental reminder to do right away after leaving to pack her things.

Which led her to the now, sitting in her bedroom and staring at a red ribbon she remembered Ino to have given to her a long, long time ago - now only a few years ago, really - lying in her hands. She gave it back to Ino, didn't she? But why? It had been something stupid, Sakura thought. A silly rivalry, over a silly boy, no less, turning to a true competition until they ended it when they grew up a little. Did Ino want it back?

Sakura looked down at the little piece of red as the clay bird fluttered around the room, poking around and inspecting things, curious as a ferret and twice as willing to move things around and possibly dropping them. It was a gift, Sakura reasoned, and it was impolite to give them back. Pulling out some scissors from a drawer on her vanity, Sakura swiftly cut the ribbon into four seperate pieces. She tied each around her four seperate fingers to cover where the skin would catch from the little scar, satisfied when she flexed her hand and no light peeked out at any angle. Curiosity would have to wait, which was something of a bummer, seeing as she had been dying to really check it out, but their genin status had only been awarded two days ago. Sakura had given herself a day to take it all in, one rightly deserved, she thought, and that left little time to begin investigating the strange little 'problem' residing on her left hand. It would just have to wait until later, unfortunately.

Slowly picking up the bag she had gotten ready in an incredibly short amount of time and standing, the bed springs groaning from the removal of weight, Sakura tugged at her little red dress a little impatiently. Honestly, the thing was a hindrance to just moving, and it was going to annoy her quickly. Removing it and carefully hanging it up in her closet, Sakura rifled through the almost ridiculous amount of clothes she had had as a young girl - did she _ever _wear the purple sweater hanging in the back? How _vain_, how _immature_, how -

"Oh, I'm going to have a horrible time with this, aren't I?" Sighing so deep her chest could've popped a rib, Sakura finally opted to just cut the annoying little excuse for a kunoichi outfit into a shirt, pulling on some pants that ended at her calf and strapping her gear back on after. Her hair was possibly worse than the dress - it would get in her way too much. A quick ponytail worked well enough for that - she'd chop it off later. The headband resting on the top of her head hadn't been there for a long time, but she felt hesitant in pulling it down to her forehead. She had never promised Ino, Sakura realized. She would have done it the day she skidded into this existence, but she didn't.

It suddenly felt like something from her childhood was lost. She almost considered running out right that second to try to reenact it. It was something she and Ino had shared, and it was important, as little-girlish as that sounded. Sakura hadn't been an unfeeling person, even when - even after resigning and joining. It had always been important.

"A godawful, horrible time," Sakura eventually reiterated, rubbing the two spots where her eyes began closest to the bridge of her nose. She picked up her pack, whistling for Dei, and was heading down the stairs when the door opened and a voice called up.

"Sakura-chan? Honey, I just got back from the grocery-" Her mother stopped mid-sentence when she saw her daughter. Sakura still wasn't quite used to it, truth be told. Seeing her mother, and on a regular basis, no less; but it was nice, so Sakura mustered up a smile that wasn't as hard to come up with as she had expected.

"Mom, I'm going on my... first mission," which was true in the sense that it was a blatant lie to her consciousness, and she didn't really want to think which number this was, "I'll be with Kakashi-sensei and my team, and it's only a C-rank. I'll be gone for about two weeks."

Her mother set the paper bags settled in her arms down and swooped upon Sakura to envelop her in a hug. "My baby's first mission," she murmured into Sakura's hair (and it was warm and comforting and gods, how she had missed this, missed curling up into someone, missed her mother), "I'm proud, Sakura-chan."

Smiling (genuine, with a little bit of fakeness pasted on, too, and Sakura knew this because maybe this was where she had picked it up from), Rin Haruno pulled back from Sakura, who smiled in return.

"Be safe, okay?"

Sakura was kissed by her mother and as she left, she didn't hear the front door close until she was well away from the house.


End file.
